Heironymus took his seat at the table and sized up his companions. It was an interesting lot. They probably thought the same of him.

He ordered and listened to the banter. Dak's response that he "found people" seemed a bit odd. But somehow it wasn't surprising. He ordered a mulled wine for himself and offered his own bit to the conversation.

"I suspect there are many in this town that need finding. I have spent some time out of the city in the past, but now I simply seek to bring a bit of respect to those so down trodden they might as well be lost. There are plenty such in this town. It is a losing battle."

He paused briefly for a drink. "Which is why Brown's letter intrigues me. I would like to feel that I could actually do something. But, no, I have no idea who he is."

"I suspect there are many in this town that need finding," Heironymus noted, evoking an emphatic nod from Dak, "I have spent some time out of the city, in the past, but now I simply seek to bring a bit of respect to those so down trodden they might as well be lost. There are plenty such in this town. It is a losing battle."

Dak eyed the cleric, not warily as much as with a certain understanding, and continued to nod at the man's words. "Can't say that I've adventured much outside Altondale," he muttered, "but, aye, I catch your meaning."

"Which is why Brown's letter intrigues me," the cleric continued, "I would like to feel that I could actually do something. But, no, I have no idea who he is."

"A matter we are sure soon to settle, mellonamin," Dak offered, "for better or for worse, uma?"

---

((OOC: mellonamin = my friend; Uma = yes))

As it turned out, young Arshavir had been away from home for several days in an attempt to further his own studies of swordplay and magic. Upon returning home he found the letter from one "Lord Brown", a name he was not familiar with, and found that the letter proposed a meeting this very day, not more than half an hour from the current time. Normally this tavern would take at least 45 minutes to reach from his home, so he's have to hurry if he meant to be on time, or at the very least only a few minutes late. As luck would have it though, the young man had lived in AltonDale his entire life and knew the shortcuts and back alleys really well and would be able to shave a bit of time off the trek using the lesser travelled routes.

Haphazardlessly stuffing the letter into his pack he made sure he had his various pouches in their usual places across his belt, slipped the smaller weapons into his pack for ease of transport and darted out the door just as quickly as he had returned to make his way to the Luck of Shinara as quickly as he could. As it were the trek took him only 29.5 minutes, running close to full speed for much of the trek, and weaving in and out of alleyways and through crowded streets, if he weren't so out of breath he would have patted himself on the back for making it there so quickly, and without knocking over any little old ladies this time as well.

Huffing and puffing he made his way into the tavern, scanning the room quickly he managed to spot a table that seemed less like sailors on shore leave, and more like a group of locals awaiting a meeting like himself. Thinking to himself as he made his way over he wondered what sort of person this "Lord Brown" may be, why he would be contacting people like this, how he decided who was trustworthy enough to contact.

Leaning against the table and breathing heavily the young Duskblade managed an introduction, "My...name is... Arshavir..Harcourt..." Pausing a moment to wipe some of the sweat from his brow he continued, "I hope...I... have not... missed the... meeting... I ran.. all.. the.. way... here.." With that he pulled up an empty chair from a neighbouring table and went about catching his breath.

"A matter we are sure soon to settle, mellonamin," Dak offered, "for better or for worse, uma?"

"Sooner the better," Pyurs piped up, nodding her head toward the arm wrestling match, now in full grunt mode with the participants turning red faced as they each tried to win over the other but seemed equally matched in brute ferocity, "I'm itching to go tip the scale over there..."

Another man puffed to the table and her head cocked curiously. He smelled strongly of the streets and fresh perspiration which made her nose itch. Before she could wipe away the sensation she sneezed explosively and wiped at her snout with her sleeve.

Leaning against the table and breathing heavily the young Duskblade managed an introduction, "My...name is... Arshavir..Harcourt..." Pausing a moment to wipe some of the sweat from his brow he continued, "I hope...I... have not... missed the... meeting... I ran.. all.. the.. way... here.." With that he pulled up an empty chair from a neighboring table and went about catching his breath.

"Arshavir, you haven't missed anything other than the barmaid." At first her voice came out muffled through the sleeve then more clearly as she moved the arm to point around the table at the assemblage, "I'm Pyrus, that over there is Dak.." She stage whispered behind her hand the next part, "...and watch out he has a dog." she resumed naming off the rest, "There's Heironymus, and Alex" she finished with placing her ale in front of Arshavir with a thunk. "You look to be needing that more than I!"


((did I leave out anyone?))

Heironymus smiled at Pyrus' introduction. The little one had a clever sense of humor and seemed like a great one to have around to make everyone feel at ease. After she offered the man her drink the cleric offered his own greeting.

"Welcome Arshavir. You get the prize for the most energetic arrival, but I suspect we all share your level of curiosity."

"A curiosity that hopefully will be stayed for a moment." A silky voice responded to Heironymus' words. A maiden turned from the arm wrestling crowd and pulled a chair from a nearby table. She wore a hunter green cloak pulled tightly around her curvy figure. Her hair was carefully pulled into the hood not letting a strand poke out and her eyes as she met the eyes of the entire party bit by bit were covered with a mask. Her lips were cherry red and her skin was obviously discolored by makeup. She spoke in a low voice just above a whisper.
"You have not missed the meeting Ashavir. Indeed you didn't need to race all the way here." The lady pulled a flask from her cloak and took a swig. She was wearing brown studded leather armor and black gloves. "As you know this city is in need of heroes and our employer Lord Brown has chosen you. Why I am unsure but each of you brings something different to the table either in background or skillset. It is my lord's hope that you will be able to do what the police cannot. In order to prove that hope we have gathered some intel on a smuggling and slavery ring being operated in this city. The details will be at this location." She slides a piece of paper to Dak. "I trust you will be able to find it. If you succeed in shutting down this operation then you will have the full support and resources Lord Brown can supply. On a more sensible note I suggest maybe coming up with a way to not be so recognizable. This is a marathon against many opponents, leaving your identities easily recognizable may put things you care for at risk. I wish you luck and I have picked up tonight's tab." She rises smoothly from the table answering any questions with "Further details will be at the prescribed location." In moments she is out the door.
The address on the paper is 123 Monroe It's on the other side of the city near the east wall. The east side of the city is mostly lower class people. The buildings are old and stout. 123 Monroe is built right up on the wall itself squashed between two other buildings; one looking abandoned. It was obviously once a dwarf's home; built squat, without windows, and only a single level. The stonework still in reasonably good shape. The street lamp illuminates the number almost invitingly. The doorway is a touch small.

Very interesting I thought to myself, she left us with more questions then she answered. Alls we have is an address and her word to go here and gather info. Well what choice do we have, we have already gone this deep into the rabbits hole may as well keep going.
I say to the group "we should be cautious and follow her advice starting now to conceal our identity. During the day go about life normally but when we meet next we need to be concealed." I pause to hear the rest of the groups thoughts on this.

(Assuming from the conclusion of the Dm's post that he is assuming we left the inn and went to the hideout right away - thus the description of the location. My post reflects that assumption. If I'm wrong I will change it.)

Heironymus watched the strangely made-up woman leave. He didn't like disguises like that. People who hid their identity made him feel like they had something to hide. Plus it had always kinda given him the creeps. What did it say that he now was getting directions from someone that clearly had a need to conceal her identity? That he would need to conceal his own identity and actions? He had never before needed to do such a thing. It made him uncomfortable. But, he reasoned, this was what being a vigilante required. It wasn't that what he was doing was wrong. He was stopping those who were in the wrong. He wished he could do this task in the full light of the day. But, in the end, that was the heart of the problem. He had been trying to work in the fullness of the light, and where had it gotten him and those he worked with and for? Nowhere but in the slums and, for many, in a grave. The time for disguises had come.

With these thoughts fresh in his head he turned his glance away from the door their host had just exited and looked towards his new companions. "Well, it seems we need to move to find out more. I see no reason to delay - we all want more information and this seems to be the path. If I came here, I will certainly go there. As for her other comment, that seems wise. My cloak will probably be enough for now. I have some ideas for the future, but until I know more I don't think I can make plans. Shall we get going? Perhaps in groups of 2 or 3?"

The duskblade took a long drink from the pint placed before him, and not moments later their table was approached by a masked figure who informed him he had had no reason to rush all the way here. At this realization he blushed slightly, looking down to hide his shame, feeling like a bit of a fool now. When advised they may want to consider disguises it brought Arshavir back to memories of a happier, carefree time.

Harcourt had grown up on tales of masked adventurers who had taken up alternate identities in order to live more peaceful lives without celebrity status upon retirement, an idea that had always intrigued the lad. Now it seemed he would have his chance to become once such adventurer of legend, all while helping the city he had called home all his life.

As a child he would pretend to be such an individual, playing with a "sword" fashioned from a stray piece of wooden latice and a dwarf-sized ash grey cloak his father had given him as a young boy. The sword he carried now though was not made of wood and he had a full, human-sized cloak, but the idea remained the same.

Leaving the meeting he did not proceed immediately to the address on Monroe, but rather made his way to a costume shop frequented by actors to purchase a face painting (disguise) kit, and a small leather mask in a hawk motif. Paying for his purchase he then proceeded back to his modest apartment and grabbed his grey cloak from the wardrobe and packed it into the pack, opting to continue wearing his navy blue cloak while out during the day, as well as packing up anything else he might find useful into his pack before heading out. The face paints and masked wrapped neatly into the cloak for safe transport.

At dusk he left his home and headed into an alleyway he knew to usually be quiet and unoccupied and removed the bundled cloak, paints, and mask from his pack and placed his navy blue cloak into his pack and clasped the grey cloak in place over his shoulder, he then hastily applied rings of black paint around his eyes, giving it a moment to dry a bit before tying the mask into place and pulling the hood up over his head and packing the paints away and slipping the pack back into place under his cloak and making his way to the address on Monroe, keeping to the back allies and avoiding the streetlamps when he could to avoid unwanted attention while making his way to the eastern wall, but staying alert, just in case trouble found him. His sword was strapped in the usual place, the morningstar now hung from his hip, and the daggers he kept hidden in his boots were in place should they be needed.

Thinking about how to conceal myself, I started to head in the direction of a mask shop I knew about. Realizing Harcourt was going in the same direction I decided to walk beside him upon arriving. I found a trycorn hat and a bandanna for now, paying I leave for my house to prepare for tonight grabbing my weapons and armor before I head out.

Pyrus had been watching the arm wrestling match and was a bit shocked when the mysterious maiden seem to dissolve from the crowd of observers. Pyrus' ears flattened back warily, a combination of caution and excitement mingling with each word the woman spoke. She sniffed to determine a scent to identify but only ended up rubbing her nose to dispel the strong smell of oiled leather amid the miasma of sweating sailors. At the mention of heroes her ears perked back up at full attention. What adventure! The glory! Albeit a quiet sort of glory as this Lord Brown obviously wanted lurking vigilantes on the edge of the law. She had to stop herself from rubbing her hands together as she thought of all the fun that awaited them.

"...On a more sensible note I suggest maybe coming up with a way to not be so recognizable. This is a marathon against many opponents, leaving your identities easily recognizable may put things you care for at risk..."

Pyrus snorted out in a quick burst of humor. Disguised...right. Her time in the city had made her appearance known in the darker slums. It was her form of advertisement to those who bought the information she gathered. A few people already knew of her particular appearance. Though she was careful not to give out her name how many other halfling-sized foxkin where gallivanting around the city? For now her cloak and hooded cowl would suffice, but her mind was already working out something clever to use as disguise for the future.

She opened her maw to ask a string of questions but was interrupted by the hooded woman's departure and she looked at the paper in front of Dak with unabashed curiosity. "Let's get this ball rolling then!" Pyrus hopped down from the chair motioned to Heironymus, bouncing on the balls of her feet with energy, "A cloak is good enough for me too, let's scope out the place while the others catch up"

Heironymus almost burst out laughing at Pyrus' excitement, but stopped himself lest the foxkin find it insulting. That little creature was undeniably a bundle of energy and had an innate charisma. It was hard not to find the charisma charming. He suspected there was some steel underneath that bubbly energy, but the outside persona was fun. He strongly doubted that Pyrus would be a grim faced dark knight. Or, if that was the case, Hieronymus was sure he would be laughing behind his own mask.

When Pyrus suggested they move out and scout out the next stop he quickly agreed. "Lead on. Lets see what our mysterious host has to offer."

He didn't bother with his cloak as he walked out of the tavern. he had been sitting there in plain view for some time and covering up now would only draw attention. Once a few blocks away he brought up his hood and made sure that nothing distinctive was showing. He didn't think he looked disguised, he just looked like any other man walking the streets in a cloak. Sometimes simple disguises were the best. He couldn't help wondering as he moved just what would qualify as a "simple disguise" for the little foxkin.

The door opens revealing an eerie green light. Upon entering you arrive in a hallway with four doors down it. The first of these are open and the light streams from that doorway.
The first room has three tables set up. One on the north wall, a second on the east wall, and the third in the middle of the room. The north wall table is about four foot by two foot and has vials and potions bubbling away on Bunsen burners. The potions are all green and this is where the light is coming from. The other table stretching the width of the room has books and notes strewn about it, and the third table, a round table in the middle of the room, has five folders neatly placed on it.
You hear a flush and then the second door down the hall opens.
"Oh my!" A petite human girl standing at 5'2 with blonde hair steps into the hallway and stops upon seeing you. It's hard to tell much about her figure through the oversized lab coat she's wearing, her hair is in a disorganized bun, and she's wearing glasses. "You must be the Heroes!" She stammers excitedly "I'm so pleased to make your acquaintance" She tries to hurry over to you but trips on her lab coat making her glasses fall off her face. "Oh dear where did those go?" She spends the next several seconds frantically feeling around for them, locating them and sliding them back on her face. She hops back on her feet hand outstretched. "I'm Felicity! I'll be your behind the scenes help, analyzing stuff. Oh you need light!"
She digs around in the lab coat checking three pockets murmuring to herself. Then she triumphantly pulls a stone from one of her pockets "Shirak" she says and the stone burst into a pure white light instantly brightening the room.
"This way." She says carefully insuring she doesn't trip again. "These files are for,.Oh no!" She runs over to one of the green potions turning off the burner. She lifts it to her nose and starts coughing. "Ca-Ca Ruined!" She set the bottle down. The smell of burnt pig's feet begins to fill the room. "Oh ew! It's gonna take forever to air this out." She immediately starts pulling vials out of thin air. A pocket dimension perhaps. "As I was saying those files are for you. They're everything we know about the current case. Well everything the police know and now we know."
Opening the files there is a map of the harbor with lines crisscrossing it (Pyrus, Arshivar, and Dak recognize the lines as sewer lines), A couple photos of dead girls with bite marks on them, and An artist sketch of teeth with the two front ones longer than the others.
"We know that some of the ships occasionally dock at the harbor with these slave girls. The police believe that the ships are carrying the girls so the Dread Pirate Ramsey leaves them alone. Then the girls are disembarked and given to the Rift Raffers gang, but that's where the trails grows cold. Occasionally the police find their bodies washed up like in the photos. In fact if it wasn't for the bodies there'd likely be no evidence. The police managed to intercept one shipment of girls two months ago. The officers that lead the raid disappeared two nights ago. The police can't flush the Rift Raffers out of those sewers, and this operation seems to be more involved than the Rift Raffers could normally pull off on their own." She poured a couple of the vials she'd been eyeing carefully together. There was a small poof and then the air smelled of roses. "That's all I have from here you take it."

Alex took in the place observing all of the potions and the smells it was weird but in a way felt homey. When the girl popped out he was surprised she looked so young. He smiled and quietly laughed when she tripped over her oversized lab coat. He looked through the file she pointed out thinking about the key notes he should take away. Rift Raffers, docks, sewer lines, and bite marks on them that part was disturbing. Thinking it over for a min "I think tomorrow night we should stake out the docks and try and catch them in the act of holding the girls hostage. I don't think we should just blindly go into the sewers might run into bigger problems then we prepared for." Looking back at Felicity he said "thank you for the info and the opportunity."

Dead bodies, bite marks, maps showing sewer line intersections, slavers and missing cops; if nothing else this would be an interesting first case. "Knowing what we're up against would be the smartest course of action, I agree. However, all of us trying to stake out the docks might be more than a little suspicious. I suggest a couple of us, maybe ones who are familiar with the area and can either stay out of sight, or at least not seem out of place, should do a little recon work." Poking through the files he adds, "If we can find anyone who may have known or had any connection with our ladies, or the missing cops for that matter, it may also be wise to ask them for some additional insight."


((As he was not there for much of the initial team intros he cannot readily make suggestions as to who would best fill these roles. OOC though, and I stress this is ooc, and admit it is a bit meta-thinking, it makes the most sense that Pyrus and Dak do the recon as they are likely the most stealth focused, and our cleric may be able to get some info from some of the people that frequent his shelter/soup kitchen. Then again it may not be too wise to be asking too many questions, it'd make it obvious we know more than we should...))